He heapeth up riches and knoweth not who shall gather them.—Psalm 39:6.

O soul, it is not thine,

But lent to thee in trust

That thou may'st make God's glory shine,

Secured from moth and rust.

Thou can'st not take one mite

Except as thou dost give

And waft it in the golden light

Where heaven's glories live.

Go look for those in need—

The hungry and the cold.

Kind words and actions are the seed

Which yield their fruits of gold.

Give to the heathen world

Knowledge of Christ our Lord;

Pray that his banner be unfurled;

Send forth, his priceless word.

He lived for us and died,

And intercedes above.

His blood, a sacrificial tide,

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